From a Paris Balcony

by Ella Carey

  “You are trying to fight against the tide again, Louisa.”

  Louisa dug the tip of her parasol into the soft English soil, then pulled it out again. “I’m right, though. You know that.”

  His voice dropped to a low bass. “You’re upset about Meg, and I know it’s hard for you, my leaving at the same time. Find someone who will make you happy and then be happy yourself. Don’t complicate things any more. You know it won’t work.”

  Louisa felt a terse smile cross her face. “For God’s sake, Sam. Surely you, of all people, understand.” The words bit themselves out.

  Samuel took a step toward her, pulled the parasol out of its soft bed in the earth. “I think you haven’t met anyone who interests you. I really do think that’s all this is.”

  Louisa shook her head. “I’ve been stealing the papers once the men have read them after breakfast. If women have to obey the government’s laws, then we should be part of the process of making those laws. We have to pay taxes just as men do, so we should have the same voting rights as men. How are we supposed to change anything if we cannot even have a say in who makes the decisions that bind us? And look at me. What if I wanted to do something more with my life? Most women probably do. But we simply don’t have the chance. Can’t you see, Samuel? We have to change things. I would hate to have a daughter who was brought up with the restrictions that I have had.”

  Samuel turned to her, took her hand in his own. “But if you get involved, it will brand you. You’ll set yourself up for social and financial ruin, and I just cannot stand by and watch. The forces against you are far stronger than you think. People will go to unthinkable lengths to protect the status quo. They will fight much harder than you think, Louisa. And women, I fear, will be your worst enemies.”

  Louisa heard her mother’s insistent voice in her head—she shouldn’t be complaining, or goodness knew, talking about herself! She turned away from the tree and began walking, fast, back to the house.

  Samuel was right behind her. He pulled at her arm, turned her to face him. “It’s our last evening. I don’t want to remember you like this. I want you to promise me—”

  “I can’t promise you anything.” Louisa whispered the words, but her heart had started to hammer and her hands were growing moister than her head. “Oh, drat!” she said, wiping away a hot tear from one eye.

  “I know it’s going to be hard, and different.” Samuel leaned in closer, whispered right back at her. “But write to me. Let me know how you get on. Just do not settle for anything less than the best, which is what you deserve, and for heaven’s sake, choose someone who will let you be yourself. You will be an influence on your children. You will instill your feelings and your intelligence into them. Louisa, you have so many gifts. You can share them. Find the right husband, start your family, and you can make it all work out. You know that.”

  But Louisa’s words came out in a rush. “Gifts, Samuel? What use are they to any woman? Don’t you see? We are simply viewed as packages. We don’t do the choosing. We are the parcels, to be picked up—or not. Men choose us or discard us as they please, while all the older women look on like rival bidders at an auction house. Everyone is complicit. It’s brutal.” Louisa had to take several deep breaths. Fear and anger and even guilt, were she honest, and sadness and loss and homesickness, dare she admit to that, were all wrapped up in one whirling mess.

  “You are worth more than anything in the world to me,” Samuel said. “But I just don’t see that your dreams of freedom and independence are realistic in any way at all. You will need support if you want to take on anything. You will need a perceptive husband. Even your Mrs. Pankhurst has that.”

  “If there are going to be any husbands, they are going to have to be enlightened.” Louisa almost laughed out the words. “Samuel, I just wish I could come with you to Hong Kong, do what you are doing,” she said through gritted teeth. “See the world. Gain experience. Contribute.”

  “I know.” Samuel sounded a little distant now. “But we are stuck in the world as it is, Louisa. The changes you dream of are radical. And radical change requires a revolution. And revolution means violence. And as your brother, I do not want you involved. I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know what will come of Mrs. Pankhurst and her activities, but I do know that I care about you. And I want you to stay safe, and I want you to keep your dreams safe. Promise me that. Don’t risk your reputation; don’t ruin your chances of happiness over this. Just wait. It will work out. I believe that. I will write to you as often as I possibly can.”

  Louisa blew out a breath. “I want to be free to make my own decisions. I want to be free to run my own life. Just like you are. That’s all.”

  “None of us are free,” Samuel said. He ran a hand over his head. “But I am in constant awe at your ability to hold down an argument.”

  Louisa shook her head. They had argued all their lives. But at least she knew she could trust Samuel with her thoughts. He would never betray her to anyone. She knew that he understood her, but he was not willing to upset the status quo. He thought one could hold views within the confines of society, and he viewed society as protective. And that was where they would always differ. The rub was that Louisa also understood that she lived in a world where an unmarried woman was considered of far less consequence than a married one. Were she not to marry, she would find it almost impossible to have a voice. She still had to think further about this matter, but the answer was not coming easily at all.

  What was more, any marriage that she entered into would have to be considered suitable. What if she were to fall in love, heaven help her, with someone who did not fit her mother’s idea of the perfect husband? She had spent sleepless nights dealing with the fact that she could not have a career, nor could she choose whom she might fall in love with.

  So if she were to avoid an arranged marriage, if she were to join the fight for women’s rights and hope to meet someone who might in fact interest her rather than simply be suitable for the circle in which she moved, she knew what she would be labeled—a bluestocking, a renegade, a misfit. A young woman’s reputation, once lost, was impossible to restore. Was she ready to throw everything that she had ever known away?

  Louisa turned back toward the terrace. “Let’s go and drink champagne for Meg and for Guy.”

  Samuel was right behind her. “She is happy with him, Louisa.”

  “I know.” Louisa waved an arm at him, but she marched on ahead.

  Sometimes she wondered where she fit into the world at all.

  The next morning, Louisa changed into her riding habit straight after breakfast. Saying good-bye to Samuel had not been as bad as she had imagined. His buoyancy and excitement had shone through when she hugged him in the driveway just after dawn, no matter how tactfully he attempted to hide his feelings for her benefit. The last thing Louisa had wanted was to break his mood.

  Now, she needed to be outside, to be free, preferably somewhere she could take a horse for a gallop. She strode through Willowdale’s hallway, into the wing that housed Meg’s bedroom. Meg had taken to having her breakfast brought up to her in bed since getting married. Louisa could hear the clink of a teacup settling on a porcelain saucer as she stood outside her friend’s door and knocked.

  It was a perfect summer’s morning—still cool with the promise of heat later in the day. Louisa adored the early mornings. She couldn’t abide the idea of staying in bed for too long. Today she had thrown her own windows open wide when she woke, breathing in the air scented with climbing roses.

  Meg asked her to enter. The remains of her breakfast sat on a tray, along with a tiny posy of fresh petunias in a crystal vase.

  “You are looking more and more at home here every time I see you.” Louisa smiled, moving into the pretty room with its polished floorboards, pale rug, and marble fireplace.

  “Oh, I confess, I’m in heaven.” Meg stretched. Her long dark hair was still tousled and her cheeks were pink with good health.

/>   “Are you coming for a ride?” Louisa went and stood by the window.

  “Oh, goodness no. I’m supposed to be meeting with some of the neighbors. Then we’re off to the church. Lady Hamilton has my morning all planned.”

  “Well, you’d best get going. Because the day will be half-over and you will have done nothing but indulge yourself in bed!”

  “How delicious,” Meg sighed.

  “I have to get out,” Louisa said, turning around all of a sudden. “It will be too gracious hot soon.”

  “Go and enjoy it,” Meg said, but then her voice sank a little deeper. “How did Samuel’s departure go?”

  Louisa let out a long breath. “It was fine. He had to go.”

  Meg nodded, and for a moment, it was as if Louisa’s old friend were back—the one who used to listen to Louisa’s ideas, who shared some of them too. But Louisa had seen changes in Meg since their arrival in England, and once the other girl had fallen in love, she had stopped talking of such things at all.

  Louisa had tossed in bed for most of the night. Her friend and her brother were both leaving her behind in different ways, but they were both happy. Louisa had finally decided that she would have to exercise some of the steel that her own mother had shown toward her. She would stick to her beliefs even harder. If she was going to be alone, why not be an explorer?

  “I’m going out to the horses,” she said.

  “Enjoy!” Meg trilled, leaning back on her white cotton pillows, taking up a letter from her tray.

  “And you,” Louisa smiled.

  Half an hour later, Louisa was sitting on a palomino mare in the courtyard outside the stone stables at the edge of the park. Something caught at the side of her eye. She turned the horse around on the spot, rather too fast, causing her to buck a little. She settled the mare quickly, but frowned.

  “Morning.” A young man stood under the arched gates that led to the stables. He was dressed in jodhpurs, long black boots, and a riding jacket. He looked up at Louisa and raised a brow.

  “Good morning.” Louisa hadn’t seen him before—hadn’t heard mention of more visitors arriving today. She frowned at him again. She wasn’t in the mood for interruptions, nor was she in the mood for talking with vacuous young men, even if this one was tall and dark with brown hair that was, appealingly for some reason, in slight disarray on top of his head.

  She took in his brown eyes, strong eyebrows, finely crafted cheekbones, and square chin. He looked amused, as if he held some secret. And this annoyed Louisa for some reason too.

  She frowned down at him. She would have to be polite for a few moments, she supposed.

  “Louisa West,” he said. He sounded sardonic.

  Her mare danced from side to side as if she were a pony in a circus. Louisa pulled gently on the reins and placed a little pressure into the stirrups to keep her charge still.

  The young man strode closer and patted the horse on the neck.

  “I’m Henry Duval,” he said, holding up a gloved hand.

  Louisa started at two things—his name and his informal manner. Even in Boston, the way he had appeared out of the blue would be considered improper. Did he think he could take liberties with an American? But then, what did she care for convention?

  Louisa patted the mare to soothe her further and slowly reached her own gloved hand down to Henry. She let her hand rest in his, but only for a second, before pulling away. She wanted to get going.

  But then, he had said his name was Henry Duval. She had heard of him. There had been chatter among the girls back in London. What were the particulars? She cursed herself now for not taking in the details of idle gossip. Too often, her thoughts were off somewhere else. She looked at him with more interest. At least, he did not at first appear dull, like every other young man she had met.

  Henry Duval smiled, looking secretive again. “Would you like a riding companion, Louisa West?” he asked, still caressing the horse. “I never get up as early as this. So I think you should say yes.”

  Louisa regarded him. She had planned to take the path that led through the woods to the west of the property. Its entrance was directly beyond the stables, and once she had traversed her way through the forest, she was going to go for a gallop through the fields beyond, all of which still belonged to the Hamilton family. She had found this route on her first morning at Willowdale, when Guy had offered her free access to the stables.

  Did she want Henry Duval with her, or not? If his conversation became a bore, then she could simply feign something—illness, hunger, thirst—and turn back to the house. On the other hand, if he was interesting, then perhaps he would prove a distraction from the ache she felt for Samuel. And Meg.

  Henry had his head on one side. “I suppose I should tell you a bit more before I take you out riding for the morning.”

  Louisa watched him.

  “I’m a friend of Guy’s.”

  “I know that.” Her mare took a circle, fast. She deplored that habit of deliberately playing dumb around young men. She had decided that it was fair neither to herself, nor to her companions. So she played things straight. And men could like it or not.

  “Steady on,” Henry said, catching the mare by the halter. “You know?” he raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m fine with the horse,” Louisa said. “You like horses?”

  “They’re not a passion for me.”

  Louisa stayed silent. At least he was not pretending to be something he was not. That was a point in his favor.

  “I’ve just come back from Paris,” he said suddenly, and he looked a little moody now.

  “Paris?” Louisa felt something sharpen in her insides. She hadn’t heard anything about him being in Paris. That was not it. But there was something the girls had been excited about—if only she could remember what.

  Henry looked down at the ground and grinned. “You ever been to Paris?”

  “I confess I have not.” Her mount’s patience was running out. If Henry wanted to talk about Paris, then that could be a real diversion from her relentless thoughts about Samuel and Hong Kong. She decided to take Henry up on his offer. “Why don’t you saddle up and come with me, then? You can tell me about your travels if you like.”

  “Wait right there,” he said, and strode off into the stables.

  Louisa watched him go and couldn’t help but shake her head. Had he created some sort of scandal at a house party? Been involved in some sort of antic up in London? Was that it? But, gossip aside, the fact that he had been to Paris interested her. Travel was something she was endlessly passionate about. She admitted that she wanted to hear more about that. When he led out a handsome bay gelding and jumped on with the sort of elegance that eluded many young men, Louisa was quite enjoying the sight of him. He was extraordinarily handsome, she thought, almost beautiful, and then checked herself. Why on earth was she thinking like that?

  Once they reached the forest, shafts of sunlight flickered down through the trees, illuminating the foliage with delicate traceries. If Louisa had been the type to imagine, she would have said that this was a place for fairies or elves.

  Unlike so many of the young men she had met in London, Henry did not seem eager to please her with trite conversation, nor did he barrage her with transparent questions about her father’s business interests in the Far East.

  It had been something of a distraction, she supposed, to be a sort of foreign celebrity when she first arrived in London, but once Louisa had answered the same stock questions a dozen times, she had become more than bored with it all.

  “How many times have you been to Paris?” she asked, urging her horse into a trot.

  Henry kept up alongside her.

  “Countless times. The crossing is easy from London so long as the weather is fine. I like it there.”

  They had come to the far edge of the forest. A wide expanse of green field stretched out before them. A few brown cattle stood about on the far side near the boundary fence, but they were far enough away
to allow for a gallop.

  “I’m off,” Louisa said, her breath starting to quicken already. “You can come too, if you want.”

  “I’ll keep up,” Henry said, that satiric look returning again.

  Louisa shook her head and took off.

  She loved the feeling of freedom that riding in the open countryside afforded her. She had always sought out the most challenging horses to ride when she was young and her father had taken Louisa and Samuel to visit cousins with country retreats out of Boston.

  Her horse seemed to understand her, so she urged the mare on, over a high jump that led to the next field. She rode on down its full slope, to the bottom of the hill, where she stopped at a pond and allowed the mare to have a drink.

  Henry pulled up next to her.

  “What is it about Paris?” she asked after a few moments.

  “Paris is life,” he said, patting his mount on the neck as it rounded in circles.

  Louisa turned to face him.

  “Montmartre is where it’s all at. Paris is about being modern—it’s about immersing yourself in the present moment, rather than the damned antiquities of the past.”

  Louisa started a little.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “No, go on.”

  He let go of his horse’s reins and leaned back in the saddle so that he was lying flat, his back against the horse, staring straight at the sky. “Cabarets that attract the literary crowd, theaters showing Molière and Jean Racine every night, dance halls, rough and seedy or deluxe and decadent, circuses—where the unimaginable becomes possible time and time again.” He stayed where he was. “If I was born into a different life, I would have been an actor, Louisa. I hope I am not shocking you.”

  Louisa was silent for a moment. She looked down over the lower part of the valley. What Henry had just said, she admitted to herself, had an element of shock. But if she were honest, he was making her excited.

  Writers, poets, artists—was he talking about a free intellectual life in Paris? She turned to Henry, even more interested now. “I confess I’m intrigued,” she said. “It sounds like the exact opposite of . . . here.”